


as close to flying

by enthugger



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, and saying 'i'm fine' a lot, avoiding parties, boys feeling things, tipsy finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21744574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthugger/pseuds/enthugger
Summary: When he thinks of Poe, which he does far more often than he should, practically speaking, Finn imagines him dirty: engine grease on his forearms and staining his shirt, jumpsuit tied at his waist, and the faint glint of dog tags at his neck. He imagines Poe’s grin and the way Finn’s own name sounds on Poe’s tongue and, force, now he’s thinking about Poe’s tongue and that is not the way he intended this interaction to go.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 220





	as close to flying

“Oh.”

Poe looks up when he sees him, like Finn’s caught him off-guard which can’t be right because Poe isn’t the type of person who’s ever caught off-guard. Finn wouldn’t have pinned him as the type of person who strayed from the center of attention at a technically-not-regulation party (but no one in the resistance is in any place to shut down that sort of morale-boosting activity) either. 

But here he is, leaning against the outside wall of the base with his eyes on the sky and Finn can’t help but wonder what he sees when he looks up. 

When Finn looks at the sky, he sometimes thinks of Poe, although he’d never admit it to anyone but Rey. And even then, he can imagine how the corners of her eyes would crinkle, and she’d tilt her head in that way that suggested she was absolutely not laughing at him. 

“Hi,” Finn says. 

It’s a dumb thing to say, more of a recognition of Poe’s presence than a greeting. But he’s been drinking at the party and Finn doesn’t have much experience with drinking. 

He's stopped feeling fuzzy in a way that’s light and freeing (like flying, he thinks, more specifically, flying with Poe in the pilot’s seat) and more like the inside of his brain has turned into a fog that keeps him from thinking straight and when they can't go straight, his thoughts tend to turn back in circles on themselves, and instead of a party in a back room of a makeshift military base, he’s in a white helmet.

And there are gunshots and his purpose is a one track kind of thing (or else) and he’s not a person who has to struggle with anything like autonomy yet. He’s not a coward yet either, Finn thinks. 

“Hi yourself,” Poe responds, drawing Finn back. His voice is soft, but easy, companionable. He shifts over on the wall, giving Finn room to lean beside him and even the smallest gesture of humanity threatens to be too much. 

Finn attempts to shake the feeling from his head, but the world spins as he does and he gives up, just moves to stand beside Poe. He’s close enough that their shoulders brush every time he shifts. He can feel the heat of Poe’s body through the material of his (Poe’s) jacket and it’s comforting in a way he can’t quite place. 

“You alright?” Finn asks, and he supposes this kind of thing usually needs a bit more preamble, but he’s still not used to the fact that he’s in a place where not being alright is allowed at all. 

Beside him, he feels Poe shrug. 

“I’m…” Poe starts to say something that trails off into “I’m fine, pal. Don’t worry about me.” 

Finn makes a noncommittal noise that he hopes conveys exactly how much he doesn’t buy the answer, but the sky is full of stars and his whole body feels hazy and he’s not sure he’d know how to press for a better one any other day. 

“I’m fine too,” Finn says instead, and Poe responds with an unexpected chuckle which fills Finn with a kind of warmth that feels like praise. 

Finn turns, sees the silhouette of Poe’s nose and the curve of his jaw, just visible in the planet’s fading light. They’re much closer than he’d realized. 

Finn imagines that all he’d have to do is tilt his head forward and it would touch Poe’s, temple to temple, warm breath and warm skin. 

There’s a faint shadow of stubble on Poe’s jaw and darkness under his eyes that looks like bruises and this Poe is so very different from the one Finn has grown used to. 

When he thinks of Poe, which he does far more often than he should, practically speaking, Finn imagines him dirty: engine grease on his forearms and staining his shirt, jumpsuit tied at his waist, and the faint glint of dog tags at his neck. He imagines Poe’s grin and the way Finn’s own name sounds on Poe’s tongue and, force, now he’s thinking about Poe’s tongue and that is not the way he intended this interaction to go. 

Finn turns fully, away from the sky and away from the vague notions he'd had of either of them returning to the party any time soon. 

He takes Poe's face in both of his hands, unconsciously runs a thumb over Poe's cheekbone. There's a ghost of a bruise beneath his fingers and Finn wonders what happened. He wonders why the surge of protectiveness that curls through him at the thought of anyone hurting Poe doesn't feel foreign in his veins. 

"Finn," Poe's voice is almost a whisper, and he's so close that his breath feels warm against Finn's ear. "You still need to breathe." 

He sounds amused. 

Finn sucks in a breath through his nose, then another. He hasn't realized how completely he's frozen until Poe points it out and suddenly he's all too aware of how little air there is between them. 

"Sorry," Finn says and he figures that means he should let go, make some half-hearted excuse for every stupid, awkward part of him that he's accidentally shown Poe every time they come in contact. 

But Poe shakes his head. He grasps Finn's arms lightly, where they're up in-between them, his hands still cupping Poe's face. 

"C'mere," Poe says, already half-against Finn's mouth and then Finn is pushing himself all the way into Poe's arms and Poe is catching him up into a kiss that tastes like cheap alcohol and smells faintly of engine grease. Poe's teeth graze Finn's bottom lip and he decides he couldn't care less what it tastes like. 

Finn wraps his arms around Poe's neck and he could curse his own brain because it feels like only a moment passes before it occurs to him. 

"Poe," he says, suddenly very aware of the biggest thing on his mind that he's only just realised is exactly what he's been meaning to say all night. 

Poe makes a muffled sort of reply, his mouth moving from Finn's to kiss down the side of his neck, nosing Finn's head to the side to reach the sensitive place below his ear and - 

"Poe, wait." 

Immediately, Poe stops. He starts to pull away and no that's the opposite of what Finn intends. 

"No! I mean, don't wait." 

Poe's hand moves to the small of his back, rests there, heavy and comforting. 

"I just meant, I'm not fine. I'm not okay." It feels like a confession, big and confusing and monumental and equally monumental is the fact that there's no immediate or negative response. 

Poe keeps holding him, his arms gentle around Finn's waist, shows no signs of fear or disgust or pulling away and leaving Finn out alone in the night of an unfamiliar planet. 

Instead, Poe leans forward and rests his head against Finn's shoulder. His forehead feels warm where it touches Finn's neck. 

"Me neither," Poe says. "It's harder when I'm grounded. But, hey," Poe kisses his neck again in a kind of punctuation. This time it feels more like comfort than urgency. "You're here." 

Finn's glad of the dark now because he's fairly certain that he's never blushed more in his life. 

"I guess so." He rests his head against Poe's. 

"Look at us," Poe laughs quietly into his shoulder. "Sacrifice for the cause, and all that." 

Finn figures it's polite to at least let a few moments of silence pass before he asks: 

"Can I kiss you again?" 

"I thought you'd never ask."

Poe pulls him back in and this time, he's gentle. His mouth is soft and insistent against Finn's and Finn tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of Poe's neck. And this, Finn thinks, as Poe's tongue touches his bottom lip, is better than any party. 

Finn doesn’t think much of anything after that, aside from Poe (Poe’s mouth on his, Poe’s hands slipping under the front of his tunic, the rough brush of Poe’s stubble against his throat) but he might have thought of the sky again. The way that Poe’s body against his own is the closest either of them can come to flying with their feet still on the ground and that, at least, must count for something.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm excited about Star Wars, can you tell?


End file.
